Shields
by brookiebee4
Summary: Roden's attempt to teach Fink to use a shield are both disastrous and successful.


It wasn't uncommon to hear swords clashing against each other near the practice arena of Drylliad Castle.

But it was uncommon to be practising in the middle of a scorching day.

"Keep your sword up Fink. It's not your shield," Roden ordered, his sword clashing against Fink's. "Time."

He paused his merciless offense and wiped away the sweat from his brow.

They'd been practising for hours. Roden had come earlier that morning to select a proper sword, he avoided using his good sword for lessons as he didn't want to dull the blade, and find ample shields. Fink followed him not long after.

As always, Roden had Fink demonstrate what he remembered from the last lesson. On the rare days when Fink forgot, they went over certain drills, practised again, and then moved on to new material.

Though for the last few days they'd been stuck on the same moves.

One of Roden's regrets was failing to teach Fink how to use a sword properly during the war. Fink's capture was one of the many things he blamed himself for. It had hung on his shoulders with his other sorrows like a mantel.

After the war ended, he'd finally gone through with his promise to teach Fink how to properly use a sword. Fink had caught on quickly during the first few days of training, but his progress slowed once he was introduced to using a shield.

Calling it a day and going back into the castle was all too appealing at the moment. Nobody else was present in the training arena, and who could blame them?

The summer was hot. Hot enough to melt skin. Roden was growing tired, and Fink surely had to be getting frustrated.

Fink furrowed his brow, and lifted both his sword and shield, "Like this?"

Roden cracked a grin, and nodded. He twirled his blade in his hand, preparing to attack once again, "Perfect. Now, be ready to keep your grip on the shield, I won't go easy on you."

A look of terror flashed across Fink's face, but he only nodded, and lowered into a defensive stance.

Without warning, Roden sprung forwards, his sword hitting the rim of the shield with a loud clang. Fink stumbled backwards. His shield never came down, but he never raised his sword to attack.

"Time! Time!" Fink called as he scrambled to safety.

"You're doing much better. You managed to keep up your shield," Roden said.

"But?"

"But you've got to use the sword too. You can't just hide behind a shield during a fight to the death. Use your sword and your shield this time."

"It's hard to focus."

"If it's hard to focus during practice, you'll be in a lot of trouble when you're fighting outside of practice. Use your sword."

Once again, Fink nodded.

And once again, Roden stepped back with his sword raised, preparing for another attack.

Sword met shield.

Again.

Much to Roden's chagrin.

He nearly called time to lecture Fink on using his sword, but to Roden's surprise, he had to jump to defense as Fink swung his blade towards him.

Several clangs rang through the summer air. Roden parried a blow, and did his fair share of driving Fink back. He held up his shield in defense as he swung low. Each time, Fink managed to barely stop his attacks with a parry or with the shield.

Eventually, time was called. Both Fink and Roden backed away from each other.

The pirates had taught Roden much when it came to swordfighting. Roden had been determined to learn quickly and earn his keep. He didn't dare tell Fink that he was teaching pirate methods of fighting during their lessons.

Pirate methods had saved his live more often than naught.

Roden cracked a grin. He was certainly impressed.

"That was much better, Fink. I didn't expect you to attack me."

"See? I can remember things."

"Don't get too cocky, I know you can hit harder. One more match?"

"You'd better not go easy on me," Fink said as he readjusted his shield.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Roden raised his sword.

Fink rushed into an attack much fiercer than before, effectively catching Roden off his guard to a degree. Roden parried the attack. Their shields crashed together. They grappled for higher ground- Roden could've sworn he'd gained the upper hand right up until Fink thrust his up to defend himself.

The shield's hard rim slammed into the right side of Roden's face, thankfully missing his nose.

Stars flew across Roden's vision. HIs lip seared with white hot pain.

Blood dripped down his chin, and Fink backed away, his eyes wide with shock. His lip had begun to throb. Roden could taste an all too familiar rusty flavor.

He dragged his hand across his bloodied face, "Time. Nithe hit kid. Good job."

"I, uh, um, that- uh," Fink stammered. "Saints, I'm sorry. Bloods getting everywhere. You need to see Tobias. Your lip's all- it's split I think."

"Tobiath doethn't need to-" Roden began, but he tenderly touched his lip again and instantly regretted it. "You're right. Leth go."

The swords were returned to their places on a rack, and the shields were left beside the arena's exit. Roden held his sleeve to the new cut on his face. Blood soaked the fabric.

The laundry staff were either going to kill him for staining it so badly, or burn the shirt.

However, his bloodied sleeve came in handy when people were in the way. All Roden had to do was wave at them, their eyes would go wide at the sight of the blood, and they'd let both him and Fink rush to Tobias's chamber.

"Tobias, can we, um, get your help with something?" Fink asked as he pushed open the door to the physician's room.

Roden waved at Tobias as if he'd done nothing wrong. Unfortunately, his greeting didn't work. Tobias went from an almost smile to a furious scowl.

"How bad is it?" Tobias crossed his arms.

Sheepishly, Roden pulled away his soaked sleeve, and tried to smile.

"Sit over there. Fink, I'll need a bottle of alcohol. No, not the kind for drinking. Hurry up."

To tell the truth, Roden was quite fond of the physician's room Tobias worked from. He'd spent his first few years of life living with an Avenian midwife. The first memories he had was of picking herbs with the midwife during the spring to dry them during the summertime.

He was also in the physician's room quite often, whether for getting a poultice for a nasty bruise, or getting certain herbs when he decided to go out drinking.

Bad things happened when he drank.

Usually that meant he did something stupid. Often, he ended up singing.

Fighting with a sword, he could do well.

With singing? Not so much. Especially when drunk.

"What did he get hit with?" Tobias asked the moment Fink returned with the alcohol. "And get me some water."

"Shield. It was my fault," Fink answered, sitting on a stool not far from where Roden was.

"When did it happen?"

"Few minutes ago, we came to see you as soon as we could."

Tobias began selecting things from the shelves on one of the piled up on the table. Roden recognized a few. There was moss to soak up blood. A jar of honey. Several pieces of white canvas.

"You're going to have a scar. No, no, don't say anything, you'll irritate the cut," Tobias returned to the table with a bowl of water and a rag soaked in alcohol. "This will hurt."

He gave no warning as he began to wipe away the blood on Roden's face.

"Have you two heard of the battles in Gelyn? The sporadic ones between angry lords?"

Roden nodded. His lip smarted from the cleansing alcohol.

"Yes, yes!" Fink said excitedly. "My friends and I got to talking about it the other day. They say-"

"Did you hear about the lord who took an arrow to the face? Hit him in the nose. The arrow lodged itself into his skull," Tobias set the alcohol rag down, and began to work while the wound had mostly ceased bleeding.

"That bloke's dead for sure."

"He's alive, actually. The surgeon managed to get the arrow out. Can't imagine how painful that would've been."

There was no way a man survived an arrow to the face. Roden had seen the damage Gelynian longbow men could do. They were lethal.

"I think you're lying," Roden muttered, testing out his lip.

Tobias swore, "You've opened the cut up again. I told you to keep quiet!"

The entire process couldn't have taken longer than twenty minutes. All the while, Tobias and Fink were talking about various things from the Gelynian lord who took an arrow to the face and what the best type of tea was. Roden found it a great annoyance to sit still.

A layer of canvas protected the long cut above his lip. Beneath the canvas, Tobias had applied a mixture coated in honey. It stuck to Roden's skin like melted sugar.

It wasn't one bit comfortable.

"Try to avoid alcoholic beverages," Tobias said once he was done. "And come back in two days so I can change the bandage.

"Thank you," Roden forced himself to keep his face as straight as possible. He'd already been lectured for trying to grin at something funny.

"I'm sorry about, uh, that," Fink gestured to the canvas on Roden's face.

It didn't seem appropriate to say that of all the scars Roden had earned, the one that would soon mark his face was the happiest one he'd received. Too many of them reminded him of the war.

Reminded him of the people he'd hurt as a pirate. As a soldier.

So instead, he shrugged, "You can make it up to me by remembering to hold up your shield. And if anybody asks you how I got this, you tell them I was attacked by ten bandits and battled them all off."

"Only ten?"

"Yes, only ten. Have you ever fought with bandits?"

"I've fought thieves."

"Bandits are worse."

Fink made a face, "Are they though?"

"Oh, shove off," Roden countered, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.


End file.
